


Of Chaos And The Eternal Night

by gloriouswhisperstyphoon



Series: if the devil is one who dares [2]
Category: Rogue One: A Star Wars Story (2016)
Genre: Daredevil AU, F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-06
Updated: 2018-12-06
Packaged: 2019-09-12 14:59:09
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,697
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16875009
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/gloriouswhisperstyphoon/pseuds/gloriouswhisperstyphoon
Summary: "I'd rather die as the Devil than live as Jyn Erso."Jyn will always be fighting another war. That's a given.This time, the war is with herself. Winning isn't really an option.





	Of Chaos And The Eternal Night

The wheelchair rumbled as Galen tried to manoeuvre it around the tight corners and the stairwells of the old church before reaching the basement to where a little cot had been prepared. 

Chirrut’s voice was soft as he left them both deeper into the crypt, the darkness easier on her eyes than the bright and stark walls of the orphanage. “I hope this will be a good place for you to rest and recover.”

She could distantly hear music from upstairs. It wasn’t in English or Latin. She turned, her face full of confusion, and Chirrut smiled. “The mosque on 39th St had a burst pipe. I’m letting them use the chapel.”

“This will have to do for now, Jyn,” Galen said, the wheelchair coming to a halt. “Are you sure that you wouldn’t be more comfortable if we called someone?”

“I’ll be fine,” she said, taking stock of her surroundings.

“Do you want to talk at all? We can -”

“I can take this from here, Chirrut,” Galen said, interrupting her. 

Chirrut’s robes rustled past her on his way out, leaving just her and Galen in the middle of the dark room. 

“Sister Maggie Grace wired the room up for you. If you need anything, there’s a button on the table there and I’ll come running. The bed should be comfortable enough.”

The cane was cold in Jyn’s hand and she struggled to force herself up.

Oh, how the mighty have fallen. 

There was a pile of books on the shelf next to the cot and she hobbled over to pick one of them up.

The weight of the first one was familiar in her hand. 

They were the books she’d left behind at the orphanage when she’d left for college. 

She turned around, ready to give Galen a glare that could freeze Hell. 

Galen was holding himself stiffly behind her. “I thought that they might aid in your convalescence. Get you moving and thinking again,” he said, a note of uncertainty in his voice. 

Jyn huffed a laugh. 

That was a joke if ever she’d heard any. 

Her hand ran over the other books on the shelf, before pulling one off, leaning heavily on her cane. “There once was a man from the land of Uz -”

Galen nodded, looking as if he was only a few moments away from crossing to her and tucking her into bed. “The Book of Job. You familiar with it?”

Jyn laughed, her bitterness all starting to come out. “Am I familiar with it? God, Father. I’m really damn familiar with it.

The Book of Job. God’s perfect servant. He prayed every day at dawn, slaughtered ten goats - one for each of his children - and burned them at the altar in God’s altar.”

“I know the story, Jyn.”

She smiled, as sardonic as ever. “Then you know how it goes. God murdered all ten of his children in cold blood. He blighted his land, lashed at Job's body until it was covered in bloody welts. And still, he wouldn’t curse God. God rained down shit and misery on the life of his most perfect servant.”

“What’s your point, Jyn?”

She shrugged, still leaning against the bookshelf. “Pretty simple. Job was a pussy.”

“I don’t think that’s a fair -”

“I used to think that was me,” she pushed on, ignoring his protests. “God’s perfect servant, put on this earth to try and defend those that needed help. I gave my blood, shit and tears into this and where am I now?”

She gave the dark crypt, with his sarcophagi and its angel sepulchres a contemptuous look, before sitting down on the tiny cot, her hip and back finally relaxing. “I’ve given so much for this city and for God and now -”

“What are you going to do now, Jyn?” Galen asked, confusion and compassion in his voice in equal measure.

She shrugged again, hunching over as she lay down, heedless of the lack of blankets. “I’m done bleeding for God. I’m what I do in the dark now.”

His face was a mask of sorrow. For her? 

Good. 

All she’d ever brought people was more pain. 

It was nothing to add another name to the list. 

“I’d rather die as the Devil than live as Jyn Erso,” she said, in a voice dripping with blood and the darkness that one could only know in the shadows of Hell’s Kitchen. 

Galen came by, his weight heavy at the other end of the cot. “You might hate God right now, but the feeling isn’t mutual.”

Jyn laughed again. “I don’t hate Him. I’ve just seen His true face.”

It didn’t look as though Galen believed her. 

He stopped for a moment, pulling a cross out from around his neck and putting it in her hand. 

Really?

He was trying to make her see the light?

“For the record, Father, I had friends. And an apartment. I tried caring for people and having a double life, and all that happened was that more people got hurt,” she said, levelling a look at him and trying to hold back all her emotions. “So maybe you should leave.”

Do not crack.

Emotions make you weak.

The mind controls my body.

My body controls my soul. 

The enemy controls nothing.

I am a weapon.

“Take your time, Jyn,” Galen said, resting his hand on hers and laying the cross over the shelf, in clear view. “When you’re ready to talk, I’ll be right here for you.”

The darkness of sleep took her easily. 

  
  
  
  
  


\----

  
  
  
  
  


Bodhi took another drink and tried to calm himself down. Sure, the world was coming to an end and his best friend was dead, but there was still good in the world. 

He had a great job and a great apartment overlooking the water and he was finally making a dent in his student loans. The infant mortality rate and poverty rates were going down too!

He sighed and took another long lug of his drink. 

Why was he still mourning Jyn? 

At the very least, thanks to his new job, he was comfortable enough to drink at bars that weren’t as much of a dive as Josie’s had been. 

Great.

Now he was thinking too hard about this again. 

Jyn was dead. 

Jyn was dead and he was moving on.

The door clattered behind him and he took another drink, before looking at the new and expensive watch that he’d never have been able to afford while he was still working at Rook and Erso.

It was too late.

Cassian sat down next to him, slamming a pile of papers and a newspaper onto the bar in front of him.

What the hell?

They hadn’t talked since -

No.

He was having a good night, he wasn’t going to think about it. 

Bodhi let out a long sigh. “She’s dead -”

“I’m not talking about Jyn,” Cassian said, his jaw tight.

That got him a sideways look. 

Cassian started scattering his files and pointing at things, ignoring the glares of the bartender. 

It was good to see him invested in something that wasn’t the improbable survival of one angry vigilante. 

“I think that Darth Vader is trying to strike up a plea deal with the FBI.”

What?

That wasn’t what he’d expected at all.

He could still see Jyn on her couch, bleeding out from her fight with him, slash marks all over her chest. 

He was being released?   


“How?” he managed to stammer out. 

He was too drunk for this, why was this happening all now?

Cassian shoved a piece of his hair out of his face and looked at him intently. “A bunch of his old holdings have been released, and a contact of mine at Rikers said that he’d been shanked.”

“So? What does this have to do with us?”

Cassian’s eyes were wide and furious. “What does it have to do with us? Bodhi, we put him away to start with! He’ll be coming for us if he’s free -”

“Daredevil put him away! And Daredevil’s dead!” he snapped. “And it’s my fault. So pardon me if I’m not getting involved with your crazy -”

“It’s not crazy!”

“No, what’s crazy is paying for a dead woman’s rent for four months straight, hoping that she’ll walk through the door just like that,” he said, snapping his fingers. “You’re a reporter, Cassian! Wake up! Look at the facts!”

He lowered his voice, casting a suspicious look around them. “A building dropped on Jyn’s head. Not just a normal building, a big one. No one’s heard from her since Midland Circle. Isn’t that strange?”

Cassian shook his head. “You’re not going to help me?”

Bodhi took another sip, before signalling to the bartender. “I’ve got enough on my shoulders without trying to deal with another megalomaniac evil genius again. After what happened with the Punisher, I thought that you’d understand this by now. I’m over all this.”

Cassian was wide eyed, before sweeping all his materials into his bag and storming out as quickly as he’d appeared. 

Great, he thought, holding his drink in his hand, watching the amber liquid cast its reflections all over the bar. 

He’d just driven away another friend that had been trying to tell him something. 

He was turning into Jyn now. 

  
  
  
  


\---

  
  
  


 

Galen’s footsteps were light as he walked down to the basement. Even Jyn, with her busted hearing, could sense that from where she stood, bent over the sink, staring at her clouded reflection in the mirror. 

“I brought you something,” he said, his voice echoing in the room.

“Is this another attempt to try and make me see God, Father?”

He snorted. “It’s a cold night,” he said, with a pointed look towards where she stood, wearing only a threadbare shirt and sweatpants raided from the collection for the poor. “I brought you something for it.”

“Some sort of mystical cure from the motherland?”

“Sure,” he said, handing her a large bottle. “It’ll help open up your sinuses.”

Akvavit.

She gave him a look, seeing him in a brand new light. 

He shrugged, giving nothing away. “I also brought your pills.”

“The marvels of modern medicine. Alcohol and pills.”

“Easy, there, Jyn. Tone it down a little,” he said, settling himself against the base of an angel statue. “If you want modern medicine, you’re welcome to walk out.”

Jyn glared at him before taking a swig.

Her throat burned as the alcohol went down, washing away the sharp and acrid taste of the pills. 

“Right,” he said, sighing. “You’re going to die as Daredevil instead of just going upstairs like a normal person.”

“Is there a point to this, Father, or are you just here to annoy me?” she snapped, trying to keep the venom out of her voice. 

“How’s the hearing?”

She shook her head. “Everything’s still muffled. I’m still pretty buzzed from it. And everything’s still too bright with my eyes. I can’t - I can’t focus properly.”

“You did take a pretty heavy beating,” he said, passing the bottle over. “Maybe it’ll come back when the swelling goes down. Or maybe it’ll come back when you pull your head out of your arse.”

Her head jerked up. 

What?

Were priests allowed to talk like that?

He laughed, and leaned back against the wall. “I’m just laughing at the indignity of this. I always thought you were a hero, you know. Not Daredevil, Jyn Erso. The scrappy fighter that grew up in an orphanage and clawed her way out to freedom. But now you’re here - hiding from the world and feeling sorry for yourself.”

“You don’t know anything -”

“I know that there’s an entire orphanage full of children that have as many problems as you just upstairs, and the little bastards are still trying to make the most of it. And here you are, a Columbia educated lawyer and vigilante, with people who care about you. And all the gifts that you were given got tossed to the kerb while you’re here.”

Her glare was sharp, and in his vague direction, as she let out a harsh laugh, the sound ringing out. “I appreciate the sentiment, but don’t think for a moment that you know anything about me.”

His face fell suddenly, before his old expression came onto his face, less settled than it had been previously. “I’ve been a priest for long enough. People come to me with their problems and their happiness and my job is to listen. I know self-pity when I see it.”

There was a soft rustle from the table next to her and she could feel him putting something around her neck.

The cross from earlier. 

“Is this a good idea? Giving a crucifix to a Devil?”

A shrug. “Do me a favour and wear it for me. It might help you.”

“So what are you suggesting I do? Go back to breaking faces while leaning on a cane?”

Galen shook his head. “It’s your choice at the end of the day.” There was a pause for a moment, as he thought about something. “I knew your mother back in the day. She was a brilliant woman. Got knocked back all the time, but she never stayed down.”

He vanished with just the whisper of robes and the sharp smell of akvavit. 

  
  
  


\---   
  
  


 

Jyn woke the next morning, her entire head feeling strange and lighter than usual, and it took her a moment to realise what was going on. 

She coughed hard into the sink, a glob of blood at the bottom of it.

Something felt odd in her head. 

The buzzing had vanished. 

Her hearing.

It was back.

She could sense the world around her again. 

The world was still bright, but she could start to filter it again. 

She could see properly. 

There was something vibrating under her feet.

The rumblings of the E train.

She could hear it.

The city whispered around her and she could hear every scrap of conversation on the streets above. 

Jyn looked up at the light showing the only entrance to the crypt and at the lines of angels lining it, trying to gauge the distances. 

Oh well.

It wasn't Fogwell’s, but it would do in a pinch. 

A quick rummage through the pile of donations found her some comfortable clothes that didn’t smell particularly offensive and a pair of boots close to her size. 

A quick jump up onto the beam across the ceiling and she started to slowly run through her old exercise regimen, feeling the muscles on her back and side loosen at the work. 

God, it was good to start to get back to normal.

Her mind went blank and she started to enter that meditative state that only training could get, only stopping when her hip and spine started to protest. 

Her fists started to ache. 

Right.

Where to find a punching bag in a church?

The laundry machine rumbled from the other end of the crypt. 

Yes.

That would work.

Jyn ran over to it, emptying out a laundry bag and grabbing a spare wimple for a new mask.

She’d told Galen that she’d rather die as the Devil than live as Jyn Erso.

And that meant that she needed to be vicious and as fast as the Devil had once been. 

A few rounds with the bag and her fists were starting to ache as beautifully as they had when she stalked the streets at night, covered in blood. 

It was starting to all come back to her.

The Devil started to rumble in Jyn’s chest, and she could feel it starting to be released. 

A set of footsteps echoed above her, along the entrance to the crypt, as loud as a rampaging army. 

Galen.

She’d know that smell anywhere.

The sharp scent of incense and something softer underneath it.

It almost smelled familiar. 

She ignored it and kept pounding the bag, feeling her muscles singing. 

His footsteps started getting closer and he clattered down the stairs, holding something in his hands.

“Morning Jyn, I brought -”

“Pasta from Romano’s down the road. You asked Chirrut about my favourite foods?”

He looked taken aback and touched the punching bag gently before setting down the takeout boxes. 

“You’re active today.”

She shrugged. “I was thinking about this. I need to know that I’ve still got it.”

“Does that mean that you’re going back to being Jyn Erso?”

She laughed, a bitter little thing. “Hardly.” Her attention went back to the punching bag.

A scream echoed in her ears. 

And then there were sirens. 

She couldn’t shut it out, anymore than she had, back when she’d still had her friends. 

She swallowed and turned her attention to the back.

“You know, that’s really incredible work you’re doing there,” Galen said. “Your mother didn’t -”

“Mum didn’t teach me any of this. I learned this later,” she grunted. 

“It’s really something to watch the Devil of Hell’s Kitchen for myself, though.”

A sharp pain rippled down her stomach, along the line of where Hadder had slashed her down -

No.

She grabbed it, wincing in pain, before realising who her audience was. 

Shit.

She didn’t need this. 

A quick glance down revealed blood starting to leak through the stitches and through her shirt.

Galen pulled out a first aid kit and started to lay it out on the cot in the corner. 

She rolled her eyes and yanked up her shirt enough to expose the torn stitches, which Galen started to redo with remarkably steady hands.

“You’ve done this before.”

It wasn’t a question.

He shook his head. “I’ve had a lot of practice,” he said, his voice soft and hesitant, before tilting her face upwards to look at the scratch on her forehead. “Let me see you, Jyn.”

There was a moment between them and Jyn could sense the words that he wasn’t saying. 

She didn’t care.

Secrets were her stock and trade now, and if someone wanted to keep their own, it wasn’t her place to judge. 

The sound of voices echoed from upstairs, and she could hear them mixing with the noises of New York.

The screams, the sirens and the song.

_ Kyrie eleison. _

_ Kyrie eleison. _

Someone shrieked from afar and the spell was broken. 

Galen stood up suddenly. “I need to go and help with the Mass. Do you want to join me upstairs?”

She shook her head, ready for him to leave her alone. 

  
  
  
  


\---

  
  
  
  


The city was loud and as alive as ever from where Jyn was perched on the roof of the church, the wind whipping in her face while she sat there and listened. 

The fabric of the wimple that she’d torn apart for her new mask was scratchy and not for the first time, she wished that her suit hadn’t been destroyed underneath Midland Circle. 

Oh well.

What she wanted and what she had would always be very different things. 

Wait.

Something was there.

_ Help me! My father! _

_ Please! Someone! Help us! _

It was the work of a moment to rush over, and leap into the fight again, the Devil rising in her chest. 

Her fist slammed into the side of a man’s head. 

The man went down and she dived on him, punching harder. 

Someone hit her from the side. 

A moment while she recovered.

What was around her.

She’d been slammed into the side of the van and jerked out of the way while the man dived at her again.

A punch to the right ear.

Her head started spinning again.

No.

She’d gone out too soon. 

They slammed her into the van proper.

Laundry.

It was a laundry van.

Why a laundry van?

There was no time to think as she ducked away, 

Her back slammed into a row of clothing wrapped in plastic and she jerked away as fast as she could.

Her spine ached.

The man she’d hit earlier yanked a piece of plastic over her mouth and she pulled at it with all her strength. 

Her hand scrabbled at the plastic and she could feel flesh under her fingers and pulled at the man’s hand, digging her nails in.

He screamed, letting go for just a moment.

That was all she needed. 

A sharp kick and he went flying out of the van.

The woman was still screaming outside, clutching at an older man.

Her father?

Jyn yanked a fighter off him.

Someone kicked at her and she ducked.

He let out a scream as his foot made contact with the van and she pulled back, yanking her fists into a boxer’s stance that would have made her mother proud. 

Her head was pounding.

Everything was muffled and fuzzy again.

Distantly, she could hear the sound of the woman running away, her heels clicking as she ran.

Good, they gotten -

Someone tackled her and she fell back, kicking blindly upwards. 

They hit the ground and she fell on him, grappling until something hit her in the head.

Hard.

She fell on the ground again, all of her senses going haywire.

Everything was fuzzy.

Another hit and she pulled her arms up, just in time to feel the heavy metal of a crowbar being slammed down where her head had just been. 

The other man came at her again and she slammed his head into the side of the van, kicking him for good measure.

Everything was starting to ache again.

“This was none of your business, asshole!” the other one shouted.

She shook her head, trying to clear her mind. 

A flurry of punches to her head, followed by a few half-hearted returned ones, as everything started to cloud over again, and she could feel the blood dripping from her nose and lip. 

“Do we kill her?” someone said. 

Do it. 

God, let her die now.

She’d been through enough already. 

“Kill me,” she gritted out.

A siren cut through the roiling mass of thoughts and she could hear footsteps as the men ran away. 

“Leave it!” he shouted. 

Leave. 

You have to leave now, Jyn Erso.

Now or never. 

She pulled herself to her feet, limping into the shadows before anyone could even register that she was still alive. 

  
  


**Author's Note:**

> Copious thanks to FiKate for beta-ing as always.
> 
> I didn't expect that *this* would be the next installment, but I guess my fingers slipped.


End file.
